


To Say Nothing

by Sanyue



Category: Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle
Genre: Fai overthinking, Kurogane being low-key romantic, Language Barrier, M/M, Post Series, Syaoran is used to it, Yama Country, nihon Country (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 16:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanyue/pseuds/Sanyue
Summary: Nihongo is a strange tongue, evenly sprinkled with consonants and vowels, crisp and sharp but not unkind – much like Kurogane himself. Compared to the gentle roll and glide of Celesian, the difference makes Fai think that these are two languages not meant to meet.Fai wants to learn Nihongo. He wants a lot more, actually, but doesn’t have the words to say it.





	To Say Nothing

It starts, for the second time, in a peaceful world of technology and modern conveniences, one which speaks in the same tongue as Kurogane’s Nihon. They discover this when Syaoran and Mokona travel a little too far away in one of those “subway” things while exploring the city, and all conversation around Fai suddenly becomes gibberish.

The helpful old lady he’s asked directions from says something, a rising inflection ending a string of unintelligible noises, and Fai realises belatedly that it’s a question. Most likely something along the lines of _understood_? He really doesn’t, but they’re standing in the middle of a busy street and people part around them like river water meeting a boulder, only with greater irritation; it wouldn’t do to keep holding up traffic. So Fai smiles and nods politely in return – the only kind of acting he does any more these days – and when the lady leaves he taps Kurogane on the shoulder. “Lead the way, Kuro-tan!”

Kurogane’s eyebrow lifts when he finally notices the lack of translation. It’s rare that the languages of two worlds sound exactly the same, but this one seems to come pretty close. He grumbles for a bit, as expected, but grudgingly takes charge. For all that things are different now, Fai can’t help but recall the first time this happened, in a war-torn, moonlit country that forced Kurogane into the ill-fitting shoes of communicator and diplomat while Fai played mute. It was a miracle Yasha’s men hadn’t killed them out of sheer affront.

Yes, things are different now. But there is familiarity in the way Kurogane keeps one eye on him, in how he is quick to pull Fai away from unreadable signs proclaiming wet cement, or glare at ruffians with salacious grins hollering at them as they walk by. And there is familiarity in the simple grunted word from his companion when they reach a junction splitting into a T: _left._

“Left,” Fai echoes. He learnt this in Yama, along with other crucial words like _behind you, run, get down_ , and _idiot._ He points the other way, works his tongue around the syllables. “Right.”

Kurogane nods, looking mildly surprised that Fai remembers. 

The ball starts rolling from there. Fai pelts Kurogane with more words – _food,_ when they pass an ice cream stand and Fai insists on getting a mint chocolate-chip cone; _quickly,_ when they board a double-decker bus and he wants to snag the last couple of seats on the top deck; _stop,_ when he sees a souvenir shop and thinks of Sakura.

Kurogane alternates between correcting him, grimacing at his atrocious accent, and, more and more often, supplying new words. By the time they return to their apartment, Fai knows all the colours of the rainbow and a panoply of nouns ranging from _window_ to _puppy._

It surprises him a little that he’s disappointed when Kurogane’s curt sentences start making complete sense again.

* * *

Fai draws the last glowing sigil on the floor and steps into the circle. Just in time, the front door opens to admit Kurogane and Syaoran, laden with groceries and looking so much like father and son for all their contrasting features that Fai’s mind whirls into overdrive concocting a new array of familial jokes. Part of him thinks he will miss this, wishes their journey will never end; the other part wants to see the rest of his children safe and sound. And a quieter, buried part of him knows they will go their separate ways one day.

“Welcome back!” he chirps.

They stare at him, probably because Mokona’s perched on Syaoran’s head and they should be able to understand him and they don’t. Kurogane’s eyes flick to the circle at Fai’s feet. It’s just big enough to fit two or three people.

“A teensy spell to negate Mokona-chan’s translation capabilities,” Fai explains nonchalantly, hopping out of the spell’s perimeter. That’s an untruth – linguistic magic is stupidly complex. “I hope you don’t mind, Mokona-chan. I had so much fun learning Nihongo I thought it would be a shame to stop!”

His heart hammers against his ribcage. He doesn’t look at Kurogane.

“Mokona doesn’t mind. Mokona thinks it’s a great idea!” She leaps into his hands and he dances her about almost automatically.

“That’s right,” Syaoran enthuses, scholar’s instincts taking over. “Come to think of it, I haven’t heard any foreign languages since Hanshin – I wonder if pronunciation can differ between worlds even if the written word is the same…”

Fai doesn’t hear the rest of his musings, thinks that the sound of his own pulse might eclipse Kurogane’s response. Instead, Kurogane’s voice is clear as usual: “Sure, why not. After dinner.”

Fai’s heart soars. “I’ll just finish up, then! Set the table, won’t you, Kuro-daddy?”

The man’s complaints trail after him into the kitchen. Fai’s grin splits his face.

* * *

They fall into a pattern of sorts.

Every night, Kurogane and Fai sit in the circle and polish Fai’s choppy Nihongo. His repertoire grows from random household objects to simple greetings and sentences, as well as some inadvertent expletives which Fai cheerfully repeats at every opportunity. His learning might have begun in Yama, but he had been reluctant back then, too afraid that any form of closeness would open the floodgates to caring about someone he wasn’t supposed to. Now, as he eagerly absorbs each new word, it feels more like a second beginning rather than a continuation of their language lessons.

Nihongo is a strange tongue, evenly sprinkled with consonants and vowels, crisp and sharp but not unkind – much like Kurogane himself. Compared to the gentle roll and glide of Celesian, the difference makes Fai think that these are two languages not meant to meet.

It makes him throw himself into learning with more zeal than ever, and if Kurogane’s surprised he doesn’t show it. Kurogane doesn’t even ask why he’s so interested in the language, which he’s grateful for. Fai feels as though he’s won some battle against the universe when they progress to writing.

He watches as Kurogane inks some squiggles – Fai will never stop calling them that – onto a sheet of paper. There is a certain method to holding the brush, slightly more accomplishable than chopsticks, and Kurogane seems more relieved than proud when Fai does it right.

“Here’s your name,” Kurogane says, and teaches him the sounds. _Fai._ And _Yuui._

Fai copies them carefully his own scraggly hand, his heart too big for his chest. He learns Kurogane’s name next.

* * *

Before bed, Fai mouths all the words and phrases of the day to himself, carving them into his memory. In his sleep, he dreams of the moon over Shirasaki Castle, of chatting with Princess Tomoyo, befriending the other ninja, of soft conversations on lazy mornings with Kurogane while cherry blossoms drift by on the breeze.

* * *

In a world with a library to rival the one in Lecourt, Kurogane hands him a ridiculously thick hard-backed book.

“Oh my!” Fai swoons theatrically. “What a lovely huge brick this is, Kuro-darling! I shall treasure it forever.”

Kurogane bops him on the head with the book. “Just open it, idiot.”

Fai does. His eyes widen. It’s a Celesian-Nihongo dictionary, or close enough at least.

“Teach me your language,” Kurogane says.

Fai gapes at him. “What?”

“Your language. Celesian.” The ninja sounds impatient, but the tips of his ears are tinged pink.

“Oh. Yes. Yes of course.” Fai’s not sure whether the fluttering in his chest is from the fact that Kurogane would like the language lessons reciprocated, or that he’d all but called Celes Fai’s home country instead of Valeria. He’s curious, though: “Why do you want to learn? We won’t be speaking it in Nihon –”

He cuts himself short. The sudden silence rings in his ears.

He said it.

He said _we._

“All the same,” Kurogane says, as though he hasn’t noticed Fai’s floundering; as though Fai has said something as natural and factual as _the sky is blue_. “It’s your language. I want to know.”

Fai’s pretty sure those butterflies inside him are throwing a party right now. The smile comes unbidden, spreads across his face even as his eyes burn with the effort not to bawl. Kurogane’s cheeks are scorching red, now, but for once Fai can’t think to tease him for it.

He does treasure the book forever.

* * *

In Yama, they hadn’t really needed words. Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, it had often been easier communicating with a touch, a look, a jerk of the head. Fai discovered quickly that there were certain gestures Kurogane used to get a message across – a hand on his right shoulder meant _split up and attack_ , a touch on the elbow was _regroup,_ the right wrist meant _hold fire_.

When they weren’t fighting back-to-back or on steeds, Fai stood to Kurogane’s left. It was a formation that worked for both of them, allowing Kurogane the use of his sword arm without obstructions while they covered each other’s blind spots. This also meant that one of Kurogane’s signals – hand on the left shoulder – could only be conveyed by putting his arm across Fai’s back, around him.

However unintended, it was as close to an embrace as he could hope for at the time – warm and solid and brief, more than he deserved – and while Fai knew it meant _stay close,_ he liked to imagine it was some taciturn way of saying _I love you_.

* * *

“It’s the ‘L’ sound,” Fai says, unable to contain his grin. “Try again. Curl your tongue until the tip of it touches the roof of your mouth.”

The noise Kurogane manages is less of a noise and more of a spray of spittle. He glowers when Fai bursts into laughter for umpteenth time that day.

“Your language is almost as annoying as you,” Kurogane grumbles, though he has shown no sign of quitting. “It’s like…one of those stupid train things you made me ride in that amusement park.”

“A roller coaster?”

“Yeah. Up and down and all over the place. Like you.” Kurogane’s grimace deepens at this realisation. Fai blinks at him, reminded of his own parallel between Kurogane and Nihongo, and smiles wider.

“Roller coasters are fun! Though I suppose your face was kind of green when we got off the ride…”

“It was _not,_ you little –”

Syaoran barely looks up from his newspaper when they enact Act Sixteen of their dog-cat chase, lessons temporarily abandoned in favour of a game Fai decides is far more entertaining than any amusement park ride.

He wonders if, in time, Shirasaki Castle will get used to their antics as well.

* * *

In a world abundant with powerful magic, Syaoran comes across a clue to restoring their clones. He and Fai spend all day and most of the night deciphering magical texts, until the boy falls asleep in the middle of a page and has to be bodily hauled to bed by Kurogane. Fai feels just as haggard himself; this world, hospitable as it is, is rather taxing on his senses. The background magic is an incessant buzz in his ears, and his skin tingles in proximity with any spell book more than seven years old.

He’s not tired enough to the end the night – the dawn? – with some alcohol, though, so that’s how Kurogane finds him after Syaoran’s been put to bed: lounging on the veranda in a spill of moonlight, sipping from a glass.

“This is really good wine, Kuro-sama. Join me?”

Kurogane obligingly settles down beside him. He’s just as spent as the rest of them, having been saddled with the job of keeping Mokona contained while the other two worked. Yuuko’s little construct has been high as a kite since they landed in this world, practically drunk on the magical energy permeating everything around them – and if normal-drunk Mokona is a hassle, magic-drunk Mokona is catastrophic.

“The moon’s sooo pretty,” Fai observes, just because he can. “I wonder if it’s a full moon in Nihon, too?”

“Could be." The silvery light of it pools in Kurogane's eyes. “Around this time of year – if our timelines match up – the moon is usually the roundest. There’s a celebration and all that for it.”

“Ooh! With sake, I hope. What do you do?”

Kurogane considers the wine in his glass. He talks about crescent-shaped cakes made to honour the moon goddess, festivities that start at sundown and last until daybreak. The sake is good and plentiful. Fai listens with rapt attention as Kurogane recalls a childhood tradition of writing wishes on paper lanterns before releasing them to float up among the stars. He tells Fai about the rabbit that lives in the moon, forever pounding ingredients for rice cake, and how he always thought they couldn’t be tastier than his mother’s own recipe.

“Mmm. A confection that Kuro-sama actually likes,” Fai teases. His eyelids are heavy. The low rumble of Kurogane’s voice is soporific, his presence warm like the wine in their bellies. At some point Fai has shifted so that he’s leaning into Kurogane’s side. “I’d like to learn to make it.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Kurogane mumbles. Almost absently, he puts his arm across Fai’s back, hand on his left shoulder.

They watch the sun rise above the rooftops in contented silence. For all that they can speak each other’s languages now, words are still superfluous.

Fai falls asleep smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Posting my first fanfic in, well, ever. Formatting this for AO3 was a nightmare, since I have no experience with this stuff (HTML? Rich text? why are all my paragraphs sticking together? What?) Do tell me if there's anything wonky. As for the fic itself – what do you think? Constructive criticism is very much appreciated!
> 
> I know I’m pretty late to the fandom but hey, better late than never. Just for kicks, I drew a pic of Fai in Nihon's priests' clothing [here](https://asanyue.tumblr.com/post/175694960664/fanart-of-fai-in-nihons-priests-clothing-with-a). Where do you guys usually hang out? I’m new to AO3 and tumblr (unbelievable, right), so any pointers you have are welcome! See you around ;)


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